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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832892">Nunc Scio Quid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindfulExorcism/pseuds/MindfulExorcism'>MindfulExorcism</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Watcher and His God [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bloodborne (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abstract Sex, Alfred has an existential crisis but then again when doesn't he, M/M, Post-Childhood's Beginning, banging a god is an Experience, god!hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:48:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindfulExorcism/pseuds/MindfulExorcism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred contemplates devotion.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alfred/The Hunter (Bloodborne)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Watcher and His God [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079993</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nunc Scio Quid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this late at night after watching a Cthulhu movie, don't judge me.</p><p>Takes place after <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573332">God of the Old City</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sky in the dream was an odd thing; it stirred and churned like some great soup, fading in and out of different shades with no particular discernment. Some days it was as pale as fog. Other days it was vibrant, like the auroras that scraped the mountains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it was dark; a purple bruise, shifting with unease. It was pretty, in its own right, but Alfred wasn’t entirely in the state to appreciate it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain wasn’t new to him. Nor was the sensation of blood pooling from his abdomen, unpleasant as those memories astirred were. What was robbing his attention was the uncanny feeling of his </span>
  <span>insides shifting with careful precision as they were healed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter’s eyes were squeezed shut, jaw locked in concentration as he rested a delicate hand on Alfred’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred watched the sky, suppressing a wince as he felt something slide into place. The hunter tensed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he said, glancing over. “It’s hard to get the organs right. I forget the anatomy sometimes.”</span>
</p><p><span>“It’s fine,” Alfred said through a shallow breath. He trusted his healer with utmost faith, of course; but he did not desire to move any more than it needed.</span> <span>Was this how the Vileblood Queen felt when he’d thrown the wheel upon her? It was a poetic kind of justice, then, he supposed — if there was any justice to be had. </span></p><p>
  <span>Still, he waited patiently. Some wounds were too much for blood — even that of a god. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The weapons they bring are getting worse,” the hunter said, shifting his hand towards Alfred’s middle. Underneath it, sundered flesh began to mend, the blood pulling back into the wound. “Was this a Gatling gun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something akin to it,” Alfred murmured. “It was smaller and lighter than what I’ve seen before. The devil wielding it dropped into one of the old tomb-holes, otherwise I would have inspected it more clearly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Alfred couldn’t discern his expression from his angle, but the hand on his skin stayed relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world may have been moving without them, but it was of no concern to a being outside time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There. That should be set.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred pulled in a deep breath, letting the stillness he’d enforced on his muscles slip away. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter was pulling his hand away, but Alfred reached over and pressed it back down, pinning it to his abdomen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved suddenly, after that, answering an unspoken question by pulling his body over Alfred’s and pressing his lips to his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred sank back gratefully, letting his weight settle over him as he felt the hunter’s mouth open against his; a soft sound, half a breath and half a groan, escaped from his throat, and he fell into the grass and flowers at his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A set of fingers, cold, traced along his scalp and tangled in his curls. Alfred let his hands pull up, grip the slender waist above him, pressing into the flesh beneath the cloth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt teeth on his lower lip, softly nibbling, trailing away from his mouth and tracing down his jaw towards his throat. A tongue, cool and wet, touched the place where his ear and neck connected, his he let out a high hiss between his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred felt the hunter grin against his flesh. “Got you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bastard.” He shifted his grip, steeling himself again for that soft touch. “If you —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never completed his sentence; there were the teeth again, just hard enough to bruise, and he couldn’t stop the groan rising from his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There would be a mark afterward. The hunter had asked, when Alfred had found a lightning rod of bruises down his neckline, if he wished for such things to remain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, silently, he had nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now there he lay, letting the hunter lovingly sink into his flesh, losing himself in slips and bits. His hands were on the hunter’s coat, pulling it away, undoing buttons and clasps and trying not to move as felt the little shocks of pleasure crawl down his spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cold lips moved from his throat to his collarbone, hands wrenching open his own coat and trappings and leaving warm skin bare. Alfred closed his eyes, his jaw locked as he groaned through clenched teeth. The god’s fingertips traced down his sides, nails scratching shallow little paths down his ribs and his hips, pressing in against dense muscle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred felt a leg wodge itself between his knees. The nails pressed in again, and he parted himself, letting a narrow pair of hips settle between his thighs. The hunter’s lips were on his once more. They pressed in, stealing his breath, and he felt heat bloom forth from it, travel down to his core and set him aflame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the hunter’s eyes were upon him. Ice blue. Indescribable. Crinkled at the edges, filled with unabashed affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Alfred felt terror curl in his chest. It was like staring into a tidal wave, surging — he tensed, stopping all movement, and he felt his fingers curl into themselves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter pulled away, worry etched on his face, and Alfred let loose a thin sigh from his seizing lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter cupped his hand around his cheek, thumb gently rubbing, expression softening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you fear me?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred took in a breath. “I wonder,” he said, gaze turning from the blue void locked onto him, “if I fear you enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a body on top of him. Hands at his side. A pair of eyes on him. All too human. All not human enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees, out of the corner of his vision, the hunter nod. Then warm darkness, as a hand pressed over his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t open them,” the god said. Alfred complied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand remained over his eyes, but everything else shifted; there was warmth, but no body; something was holding him, but it spread — encompassing, enveloping. He still felt the pressure on his hips, waiting and wanting, but it carried with it the weight of the earth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tensed, unsure of what to do. He tried to speak, but an unseen mouth covered his own and swallowed his words. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shhh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The voice was familiar as his own, soft as a whisper. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shhh. Relax. Your body will get used to this. I’ll go slowly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was everywhere and everywhere — around Alfred’s arms, on his neck, at his back, between his legs, every crevice of him, held. Alfred swore he could feel a heartbeat under his fingertips, beating too slowly for any man. Slow as a dying clock. Slow as the universe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred wondered how it could all be held in something so clumsy, so fragile and illogical as a human frame. Why the hunter would even want to.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t think I’ll ever understand you,” he’d said, his voice low, with an air of finality. “I never did, really. And I certainly won’t now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred wondered who was more incomprehensible to whom. It was a thought that almost made him laugh, if it weren’t for the unease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the space around him shift; the lips were still there, now with the edge of teeth again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You keep me human,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the hunter said in his head, a set of tendrils curling along Alfred’s neck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Even now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” He thought of a throne. Of a knife, washed by the rain. The call of pale. </span>
  <em>
    <span>For in martyrdom, there is eternity. In death, we become like gods. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So it was written. Even though where it had been was now nothing more than ash, those words burned in his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would you want to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long sigh, and everything around him seemed to ease for a moment, perhaps in tiredness. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I cannot forget,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the hunter said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And I don’t want to. If I forget, I cannot love you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The void tightened, holding him close to itself. Alfred, thoughts swirling, let it. He let a cold mouth close over his once more, tongue licking along his lips; he let the weight around him squeeze his body, tightly and beautifully; he let the thing between his legs press forward and in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that Alfred stopped thinking, at least in words. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, making only little sounds as the air was pushed out of his lungs with each thrust. His body tightened and pulled in little waves; he bucked and arched, and the dark around him caught him as he fell back each time, cradling his writhing body with unending ease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he drew closer, his mind, strangely, became clearer. Everything drew into sharp contrast — the bruised ache at his neck, the wriggling things that snaked between his fingers and through his hair; the heavy slams at his hips that sent lightning through his core; and the sensation of drowning — deep, warm, comforting. Loving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was dying, and he wanted to feel it until the end of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is this devotion?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wondered — if his thoughts were even his own. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is this divinity? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If there was faith left in him, he wanted to give it all — to this god, to this </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, holding and warming and filling him. He wasn’t sure if it was reverence or blasphemy. Then again, he wasn’t sure if he even cared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that thought, he felt his body release.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred seized, a ragged shout tearing from his throat as the god held him in place. Everything around him was moving, tightening, pulling over him like a riptide. Behind his eyelids, he saw stars — or perhaps they burned through, unencumbered by his feeble flesh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he came down, his body relaxed; he could sense light, growing slowly brighter, as the air cooled and the smell of flowers mixed with the condensing stench of sex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can open them now,” the hunter said, his voice beside him once more. Alfred did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter was curled next to him, head resting on his chest, finger tracing lazy circles on his sternum. Alfred curled his arms around him, pulling him close. He buried his nose in his hair, inhaling; and it smelled of fire and oil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> too human. But that, perhaps, was the most miraculous thing about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” the hunter murmured. Alfred nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” He shuffled himself closer, looking up to him. His eyes, half-lidded, were still blue, though they no longer filled Alfred with fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred felt suddenly tired. The hunter’s breathing was easy and slow — </span>
  <em>
    <span>not too slow, just right,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he told himself — and the gentle breeze of the dream was cooling to his flamed skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, more gently this time. Felt the body next to him. Felt the presence of a god. Felt sleep, soft and languid, overtake him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If this is faith,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought, drifting away, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then I am devoted.</span>
  </em>
</p>
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